You Were Good To Me [h.s]

present

Harry

They say to never go to bed angry at the person you love. It's impossible to know what the next day will hold, so you should always resolve any arguments or issues before it's too late. But what do you do when there's too many problems to solve? When the only answer is silence?

The nights are brutal. Laying awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering if the woman laying in bed next to me will finally speak, or if she will continue to pretend she's asleep. Most of the time it's the latter. I don't know if she does it on purpose, or if she genuinely cannot fall asleep. I don't even know if she's acknowledged that I've been doing the same thing as of late.

I don't remember the last time I slept through the night. I'm sure Stella doesn't either. Sleepless nights have become a regular occurrence in our household. Even Clementine tosses and turns at night at the foot of our bed, feeling the discomfort exuding from us.

In the mornings, words are rarely exchanged. Her alarm goes off at 6:30 every morning, signaling for her to "wake up" and get ready to go to work. Lately she's been beating the alarm. I've almost forgotten what it sounds like at this point. Hopefully I'll be able to hear that alarm ring again.

She takes the longest showers, wanting to avoid conversation at all costs. We don't talk anymore. If we do interact with each other it's usually fighting. Not even about important things, she'll just find the smallest thing to hate about me for the day. Like how my hair has gotten too long, or that I need to shave since she's decided all of a sudden she hates my mustache. Only for her to get mad at me when she gets home because I shaved it off and she didn't really want me to do it. I hate fighting with her. It feels so wrong. Nine times out of ten, I'm skirting around her, doing my best to give her space.

Once she gets out of the shower, I go right in, avoiding eye contact at all costs. My showers are usually freezing cold since she uses up the hot water. At this point, I have a feeling she does it on purpose. I don't say anything though, not wanting to give her another reason to hate me. I've been washing my hair more often recently, only because it lets me waste more time in the bathroom in the mornings on most days.

Usually when I get out of the bathroom she's already gone off to work. She makes her coffee the night before, leaving it in the fridge overnight since she's more of an iced coffee drinker. Some nights she forgets, so I'll make it for her while she's asleep. Maybe I'll catch a glimpse of her heading out the door. It makes me nervous when she leaves before I can see her off. I'm scared that one day something would happen, and I wouldn't even have a description of the clothes she was wearing when she left the house.

I miss the feeling of her beautiful lips against mine. They honestly felt like heaven. I would die a happy man if I could just kiss her lips one more time, or feel her arms snake around my neck as she holds me to her. In a way, I guess it's better that we haven't kissed since things got bad. I'd rather remember them as carefree and lovely than sad and despondent. I don't blame her though, I wouldn't want to kiss the same lips that repeatedly lie and disappoint.

We had sex in the beginning of this fight, but in the past few weeks, it's a miracle if she even gets into the same bed as me at night. Sex with her had always been about intimacy and adoring her irresistible figure. The last time we slept together just felt so wrong. It was about getting each other off as fast as possible before turning around and not saying a word to each other. We both silently agreed that night that sex was completely off the table.

I understand that I've made my fair share of mistakes in this relationship, but so has she. It doesn't mean I love her any less. It doesn't mean that I wouldn't do anything to fix things. We're both still in each other's hearts somewhere in there. It's just a rough spot, we could work things out. We have to work things out.